


Quickened by Anger

by threewalls



Category: American McGee's Alice
Genre: Altered Mental States, Community: areyougame, Drugs, F/M, Interspecies, Transformation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-06
Updated: 2009-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>"How fine you look when dressed in rage--"</cite></p>
            </blockquote>





	Quickened by Anger

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by lynndyre.

The violently pink smoke from the vial tastes of all things wonderful and wicked, like cherry-tart, slightly burnt toast, and her blood on her fingers when Alice touched herself when she should not. But, oh, it hurts to be transformed, the pain dropping Alice to her knees amidst groans of agony. She clutches at her face with fingers growing to unnaturally sharpened claws, pain more bearable for the acute self-infliction, than thrusting inch-creep of the spears of bone from her back, thick bull's horns from her head. The completed transformation leaves her bellowing in rage, strength and vitality coursing through her veins.

"How fine you look when dressed in rage--" Cat speaks as though his whiskers should touch her ears, a teasing caress when Alice is in no mood to brook delay. "Your enemies are fortunate," he continues, his words lost to the shimmering blood haze as Alice dispatches boojum with one-- two-- three straight shuffles of cards.

The boojums burn. Alice drinks of their meta-essence. She is panting, but with exaltation, not exertion. Alice turns for the door, temper as thin as her vorpal blade and as ready.

"--Red eyes suit so few."

Alice throws her knife.

It hits where Cat isn't, for he is now under her skirts. He grows in an instant, her knees forced the width of his ribs. Alice aches there, already, in familiar, persistent, and unmentionable at the apex of her legs.

Alice growls.

"How fine, indeed," Cat purrs, curiously not at all muffled by the fabric of her knickers. Alice is straddling Cat's face. He butts his head against her, until his nose, his tongue finds the open front seam. Alice groans, feeling without seeing Cat's glass-paper tongue.

Cat's tail curlicues.

Alice's claws grip Cat's head through her skirts, restraining him, anchoring herself. The devil-potion enlivens all feelings to exquisite ferocity, and this no less. Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

Alice screams with an intensity like rage. She is herself again, no claws, no spikes. Only Alice. Alone in this chaotic, illogical world of cruelty and despair. The devil-potion has run out, and with it, her courage. Alice swallows back a sob.

Cat disappears and her legs nearly buckle. He reappears between them, but grown to surpass his usual size and growing, a cat like a lion. The soles of her boots slide still further apart. Alice can feel each vertebra of Cat's spine arching through the slick, open seam of her knickers.

Now, her legs do buckle, sweat behind her knees. Cat is skin and bones, but his are strong bones and Alice does not fall. She can feel thin fur, like worn velveteen, between the hem of her knickers and the garters of her stockings and under the palms of her hands. His fur is warm.

No, not alone. Alice grins to match her companion.

**Author's Note:**

> For Cat's quotation, [skip to [2:35]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7kBHIHMP68) Cat's voice is as worth listening to as Alice's demonic transformation is worth seeing. ;)


End file.
